


Primary Colors, or, The Soul of a Poet

by queenitsy



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Other, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-11
Updated: 2005-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:27:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenitsy/pseuds/queenitsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warren muses on a metaphor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primary Colors, or, The Soul of a Poet

Will is blue. The thought occurred to me one day when we were sitting outside at lunch. After all, blue a color with a lot of tradition. Blue is what you dress little boys up in when you want to be absolutely sure no one will mistake them for girls. Blue is strong and masculine, but without being hotheaded or rash.

 

That would be red. And that would be me. It's another masculine color, right? But if blue is calm, like the ocean, or the sky the day I was actually thinking about this, than red is masculine like fire fighters and, uh, other stuff.

 

As Layla pointed out when I said this aloud, I do not actually have the soul of a poet. So sue me.

 

This did lead to an interesting discussion, though. "So what am I?" Layla asked, sprawling out between us, her head on my shoulder and one hand holding Will's.

 

"Yellow," I said.

 

She rolled over on to her side and gave me an intrigued look. "Yellow? Not green?"

 

"Green would make sense," Will added.

 

"No. Yellow," I said firmly. Yellow is more upbeat than green, and more feminine. And even though Layla scowled when I told her that, it's true.

 

"Well," she finally scoffed, "I think it's stupid to assign gender to color, anyway. Besides, I like green."

 

"Obviously," I answered.

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"That everything you wear is green," Will answered.

 

"It is not," she said, then self consciously looked at what she was wearing, which was jeans and a green t-shirt. She rolled her eyes. "Shut up."

 

Will considered. "It does seem like she should be green, Warren."

 

"No," I said again. "Yellow."

 

"Why?" Layla asked.

 

"Because it's a primary color," I said. "If I'm red and Will's blue and you're yellow…"

 

"Yes?" she prompted.

 

I rolled my eyes. "Then when we combine, we can make any other color. It's a _metaphor_. Duh."

 

She blinked, looking surprised. "I take it back. Maybe you do have the soul of a poet. I guess I could be yellow."

 

I nodded.

 

Will frowned. "Wait… what is it a metaphor for?"

 

"You know. Life, and stuff."

 

"Oh. Deep."


End file.
